


Arrow of Bravery

by CaptMickey



Series: King's Quest Fix-It Fics [3]
Category: King's Quest (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bittersweet, Chapter 5 could have done more and didn't and I decided to fix it with a hammer, Fix-It, Gen, grachaka implication is there if you squint a bit, old man fighting, power of friendship and love and all that wholesome jazz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptMickey/pseuds/CaptMickey
Summary: The King of Daventry could only think of two things as his consciousness returned: everything hurt and he was on the floor.Graham woke up groggily to the sensation of the lingering warmth from the raging inferno earlier. His body ached as he pushed himself up from the floor, seeing the smoke drift up to the sky and the scent of burnt wood whiffed into his nose. His statue was scorched and a glance to the side of where his treasured possessions of his legacy was revealed that it was covered in grime and soot as well, slowly he recalled what had transpired.A fix-it fic to King's Quest chapter 5.
Series: King's Quest Fix-It Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804132
Kudos: 5





	Arrow of Bravery

**Author's Note:**

> This was a collaboration fic after finding out that there was so much cut content in chapter 5 that it's practically criminal and I'm salty of what could have been.
> 
> But saltiness aside, because it's a collaboration it comes with this neat picture that you all should absolutely check out!
> 
> https://gerbiloftriumph.tumblr.com/post/622397553394286592/and-then-an-old-friend-materialized-to-help-guide

The King of Daventry could only think of two things as his consciousness returned: everything hurt and he was on the floor.

Graham woke up groggily to the sensation of the lingering warmth from the raging inferno earlier. His body ached as he pushed himself up from the floor, seeing the smoke drift up to the sky and the scent of burnt wood whiffed into his nose. His statue was scorched and a glance to the side were his treasured possessions of his legacy covered in grime and soot as well, slowly he recalled what had transpired. 

King’s Glen was set ablaze. Though as to how and why, the old king couldn’t say. Perhaps it was because of the summer heat, but even then the weather wasn’t that scorching. It definitely was peculiar. And the damage stretched as far as the eye could see. Suddenly aware and panic stirring in his gut, Graham moved as quickly as his body would allow as he made his way to town, hoping the blaze hasn’t passed the glens. Zards, please have the town be spared, he pleaded internally. He slowed down his run, relief coursing through him as he saw the buildings and tree still standing, untouched by the flames themselves. “Oh, thank the stars...” he sighed, placing a hand on his chest and breathed a raspy sigh of relief. 

He walked over to the tree, admiring it for a moment as it felt like he grew alongside the mighty plant. Perhaps the thought was too sappy, but it was a sentiment he had always felt. 

The doors to the Hobblepotts (then the door to Acorn and then... shoot, he couldn’t recall who now took residence) and the Feys were closed, but one door he had to visit, to see that it was alright, was that of the Blacksmith, Amaya. Out of courtesy, he knocked on the door and entered inside, expecting to be greeted by the blunt but courageous woman herself. Instead, he was greeted with an empty room, stacked up work orders and lingering dust. 

_For a moment, Graham could recall vividly the first time he arrived to Daventry, fresh from the Academy, young and wide eyed, eager for the next big adventure with nothing but a few gold coins, his cape and his feather cap to his name. He could recall the first time meeting Amaya who initially scoffed at his excitement, but nevertheless welcomed him with reluctant open arms. He remembered... a time where there wasn’t a care in the world. Graham spoke softly and asked for Alexander to step outside for a bit as he was going to talk to Amaya about collecting the surprise for his son, thankfully Alexander oblige but not before being whisked away by Whisper who claimed to have wanted a snack, leaving Graham and Amaya alone. The bow, he recalled, looked spectacular, one of Amaya's best work to date. He was ready to bid her a good day when she stopped him._

_"I actually have another gift for you." Amaya said._

_"For me?" Graham asked, trying and failing to hide his excitement._

_"It's just a little token of appreciation for all that you've put into Daventry." She adjusted her gloves, a hint of a smirk on the corner of her lip as she bent underneath the table and placed on the counter an intricate and glistening golden arrow. The design was stunning and majestic that Graham was left breathless at the sight as the glisten of the flames reflected off the golden arrow._

_"Wow! Is that solid gold?" Graham gasped, unaware of Amaya shaking her head at that familiar, youthful excitement of the older man._

_"Sure is." She confirmed. "I melted down all the shiny, gold coins you've spent here to make it. You really have earned the title of King Graham the Brave, there's been a certain boldness in everyone's eyes around here since you took the throne. And I just wanted to thank you from the bottom of my..." she grimaced and looked away, looking rapidly ill as she struggled to say that one word, "...heart."_

_She was far from the emotional type, Graham knew that since he first came to Daventry. He tried not to be too overly emotional around her, but he still couldn't help himself from speaking softly and with sincerity as he thanked her for the gift and the sentiment. She just crossed her arms, giving him a rare, soft smile._

That arrow had stayed with him ever since, always in his back pocket at the ready just in case though it doubled to him as a good luck charm. He couldn't quite explain how, but he felt safer with it on his person. He got it and his son returned, his family finally reunited and safe... he asked once or twice (or ten times, according to her), if it was magically enhanced but she just glared at him and told him to knock it off.

But that was long ago and the golden arrow remained in his pocket.

Graham looked at her deserted table, seeing an illustration of his younger self riding his most trusted and noble steed, Triumph. His eyes burned and he pursed his lips in recollection, a bittersweet reminder of who was not with him any longer. Wiping his eyes (frustrated that the scent of smoke was stronger then ever), he pocketed the collector’s item and left the workshop, feeling it to be too hot to be inside.

This summer was truly a-- no...

No!

As the door closed behind him, his heart dropped in horror as the town was set ablaze, the tree now just a massive bonfire. His legacy, his home... all up in flames. He let out an anguish cry as he shouted to the heavens, his heart broken that everything of his past was being taken away from him.

It was with a sudden horrified chill that ran up his spine that Graham realized something truly horrible.

“My castle!” He gasped in horror. Valanice, Rosella, Alexander, the guards and knights and everyone else who lived within those walls... they were all in danger! Graham, covering his mouth while gripping his worn feather cap, pushed his tired legs as hard as he could as he rushed towards his home, avoiding the licks of the flames and trying to not suffocate from the growing smoke.

His lungs felt like the sight around him; impossible to breathe and on fire. Graham pushed through the pain radiating from his legs and lungs, his eyes stung and all he wanted to do was to protect them, to make sure everyone was safe. He skidded to another stop when a green wall of fire blocked his path, blocking him from his family. A growing bubble of frustration was brewing within him when a familiar and unwelcome voice boomed.

“Well, hello there, friend.”

Friend. Graham could scoff and that bubble grew. He looked around, trying to find the slippery snake who dared to mock him by calling him his friend. “Manny,” he snark, his tone laced with bitterness, “hasn’t your game grown tired and old?”

“Oh, I’m quite finished expanding my efforts to refine this cesspool.” Manny mocked. “I sacrificed my best years to the pursuit of a better Daventry. Now there’s nothing left for me to do expect watch as it burns to the ground, and to hope that it will all be forgotten.”

Graham clenched his fists, a low growl emitting from under his breath, the rage within him bubbling more and more within him as he listened to Manannan belittle his life, his home, his family. “It was never about a better Daventry and you know it!” He shouted, trying to focus on the problem and not his ever-growing rage. “You just wanted to prove you’re better than me.”

“Better than you?” Manny spoke. “What have you ever contributed to this Kingdom? If _I_ didn’t rig the knight tournament, _you_ wouldn’t even be standing here.” 

Manny wasn’t wrong... not entirely. But that still didn’t stop him from feeling angry.

“No, you owe your entire legacy to all the cretins that sacrificed their lives to build it.”

Graham could feel his nails digging into his skin. How... dare he? How dare he? How dare he speak ill of all of his friends that helped him grow? That helped him become the man he is today? How dare Manny, who has ruined eighteen years of his and his family's life by kidnapping his son say such... such....!

“Well then leave my family out of it!” Graham yelled. “Come out of hiding and face me alone!” He gritted his teeth, that anger, that rage... it was boiling to the point of over spilling. “I’ll grant you the rematch you so desperately seek!”

Manny let out a low and sinister laugh. “Oh, will you now? Your bones are too brittle for strength and your speed is no more then a brisk walk, if that. And your mind have dulled with time. There is hardly a competition between you and someone as grand as I, Graham.”

“High talk for someone who is hiding from me.” Graham crossed his arms, a scowl on his face. “You know deep down that I will come out as the victor once more as I have done so time and time again.”

“Very well, if you’re so insistent to speed up yours and Daventry’s inevitable demise, then so be it. You know where to find me.” Manny growled and his voice vanished without a trace, but the green fire wall remained, an indication that the re-match has begun. If Manny wanted to so desperately prove himself, then Graham was going to oblige and truly finally end it once and for all that he was the true king, whether Manny liked it or not.

Graham knew perfectly well where to find the goblin and began trekking towards Manny’s former lair when at the end of the bridge Mordack stood, his arms behind his back looking displeased. 

“Mordack.” Graham greeted coldly.

“Graham.” Mordack greeted dully. 

“Didn’t I extinguish your flames years ago?” The king asked with slight hostility. 

Mordack scoffed. “I hid under the floorboard.”

“I knew it.” 

“How’s the family?” He asked, though with cynicism or sincerity or both even, Graham couldn’t exactly tell.

Graham, returning with the same hybrid of a tone, crossed his arms.“Getting along surprisingly well since you shrunk them.”

To the king’s surprise, Mordack smiled. “So glad to hear that.”

“Uh huh.” Graham shifted his weight to a different leg. It was weird to have this level of etiquette between the two of them, especially since years ago, the man standing before him stole both home and family (including his future daughter-in-law) with the intent of hitting Graham where it hurt in revenge for Manny. It was weird since Graham, in a different form, struck Mordack on the face as he could see the lingering scars across the old man’s face. It was weird since... not too long ago, he has met the man in the Goblin Caves all those years ago when he first started out as king.

It was... bitter sweet.

“You mind moving out of the way?” Graham then asked, angry... but not hostile to the man in front of him. “I have some business to attend to with your boss.”

“I’m sure you do, however... ugh.”

“However?”

Mordack scowled and rolled his eyes, his voice that had slight cynicism in his tone gave way to a faux and irritated tone, as if he would much rather not speak further. “You must first prove your strength to the grand capabilities to be worthy of seeing Manannan. Complete the trials that he has laid before you, assuming at your old and fragile age you still have strength, wit and speed. Fail to complete one of those and you may consider yourself already defeated and the ruins of Daventry inevitable.”

The two stood there in silence as Graham raised a grey eyebrow.

Mordack’s scowl deepen as he crossed his arms. “What?”

“Did... did you rehearse that monologue?” The old king asked.

“...yes.” 

“Why?”

“Listen, I didn’t want to. Manannan was adamant about it and I would much rather not have to repeat that.”

“I understand, although...” 

“Although?” Mordack now raised a brow.

Graham winced slightly, suppressing an amused chuckle, “He... sort of told me that just moments ago.”

Another pregnant pause between the two before Mordack broke the silence, grumbling under his breath. “Of course he did...”

“Sorry.”

“No.” Mordack shook his head. “No need to apologize. Just... go about and do the trials, succeed and I’ll take you to him personally.”

“Alright.” Graham nodded, wondering if under different circumstances... if he was the one who could have rescued Mordack before Manny did... if they would have been friends. “So, tell me, where can I go about to tackle the duel of strength?”

“It’s right here.” Mordack said, raising a hand up, Graham’s heart dropping as he recalled all too well what the old wizard was about to do.

A snap of his fingers and Graham heard a distant but all too familiar roar.

“You better get to moving, King Graham.” Mordack spoke coldly. “Or else there won’t be much of a Daventry to save.”

\---------

Following the sounds of the roars, Graham rushed as fast as he could, cursing out his weak and frail ankles in the process for not helping him run faster towards the distant mountains passed the floating island. Why? Why of all things that had to be the duel of strength? Why did it have to be _it_?

He panted as he found himself standing before an open pathway where the trees were sparse, there wasn’t much room left to run or to hide even (a perfect place to prevent further fires, he imagined) and his body was screaming at him to stop, to take a breath, but even then it felt like his lungs were engulfed in flames.

No, no he couldn’t show any weakness... not now. 

Not when his family and his kingdom was on the line. Not when the threat at hand was something that had haunted him ever since he arrived to Daventry. 

Graham stepped out into the clearing, slow and steady. His eyes looked around for the roaring danger, his fingers twitching ready to grab his bow to fight... to protect. It all felt... familiar, almost like deja vu. He stood ready to fight when he felt the floor beneath him shake violently and a loud roar boomed from beneath as to his side the blind dragon flew high, letting out a deafening screech. For a moment, a quick endless moment, Graham was back in the caves underground, his heart beating quickly and rapidly against his chest as fear coursed through him.

The dragon looked his way, or at least... sensed his way with low rumbling growl. He could see the slight wisps of the flames from its mouth, no doubt remembering the last encounter they had together.

Graham braced himself as the dragon roared and flew his way, jaw wide as it was ready to eat him whole. Just barely dodging, Graham fell towards the side, gripping the ground as he felt the powerful gust of wind from the dragon’s mighty wings. If he was maybe ten or twenty or thirty years younger, he could and would have hop, jump and fling himself around without much worry about his weak knees. At his current old age however, he wheezed and grunted as he struggled to stand back up.

But regardless of time, that fiery determination ignited in his eyes.

He pulled out his trusty bow and arrow and aimed it towards the dragon. Its eyes may be gone, but its wrath was as prominent as ever. Graham held his breath in an attempt to steady his already shaking aim at the beast and fired, cursing under his breath as his shot missed. Letting out another roar, Graham’s eyes widen as he watched the dragon inhale before bellowing out flames towards his direction. As fast as his old legs would allow, Graham moved to the side, feeling small parts of him getting nicked by the fire.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled back another arrow, hoping that kneeling down would help him steady his aim as he once more held his breath and fired. To his anger, it soared way passed the dragon. A curse slipped his lips as he stood back up, grabbing yet another arrow to fire and once again, his shaking hands betrayed him, though he knew it was more likely due to age than fear. 

The dragon once more swooped over him, the backlash of the winds knocking Graham down to the floor once more. He felt that familiar bubble, the one he kept trying for as long as he could remember to bury away. He simply did not have the time to lose himself to that blind anger. Not now. Not with everything at stake. Reaching behind him, he went to grab for another arrow when he felt only two left. His heart sunk. He only had one more try if the second arrow is what he thought it was. 

No. Focus. Deep breaths, he quietly reminded himself. Focus... you can do this.

He drew back the arrow and aimed it at the dragon. King Graham was known for several things in Daventry: His patience, his bravery and more importantly his archery skills. Graham refused to let his age be the defining factor of that final fact and fired the arrow.

Only to have his hands shake its betrayal and see the arrow miss.

“Zards!” He yelled, gripping his bow tightly, a horrible nauseating knot in his chest threatened to suffocate him. How? How could he fail Daventry now when it needed him most? He stared up bitterly at that horrible dragon, that horrible thief that stole and will continue to steal everything from him, even now in his old age. Blind and maddening rage took over the king as he gritted his teeth, his shaking hands shifted from age to anger.

"What more do you plan on taking from me, you horrible nightmare of a monster?!" He shouted. "What more do you want?!"

That monster. That horrible monster.

How he so desperately wanted to shoot the accursed thing right through the heart.

Wait.

Graham pulled out the last and final arrow, seeing the golden sheen reflect the pinkish orange sky. To the gifter, it represented thanks to Graham's bravery for working endlessly to give Daventry everything that he has in him. To Graham, it represented the people.

It represented his family that he raised, the locals and their businesses that he had helped to thrive. The silence oath he made to protect the people and the land for as long as he lives. The arrow brought him luck and the comfort of safety, it was time to follow through and give it back to the people.

After all, that was what _he_ did all those years ago back when _he_ was protecting the not-yet-crowned future king. And _he_ did it while staying cool and collected. Focused.

Graham closed his eyes, focusing on all that rage and anger and shifting it into something more coherent just like how _he_ did it. When the blinding rage calmed down, Graham did the fallen knight's salute, his form of good luck and a silent prayer for protection.

_Please,_ he prayed, _just this once, please help me protect those that matter._

Opening his eyes, he took another breath and placed the golden arrow alongside the string of the bow, drawing it back while aiming it towards the dragon. To his surprise, his hands steadied, feeling a powerful but comforting presence surround him and help calm his nerves.

A feeling he had not felt since way back in his youth during the Knights Tournament, standing alongside _him_.

Graham no longer felt like the weaker old man that he was, he no longer felt like he was facing down the dragon alone. He felt braver as he felt Achaka standing right by him, undoubtedly his own arrow drawn back aiming towards the beast's heart.

"For Achaka and Daventry." Graham declared under his breath.

The dueling archers fired together, watching the golden arrow soar across the sky and land precisely at the dragon as it screeched out and fell harshly to the ground, unable to hurt him, his family and the kingdom of Daventry anymore.

Graham looked over the cliff, a sense of relief washing over him as the dragon laid there, defeated. That anger, that rage... it faded into nothing as Graham put away his bow, placing a closed fist against an open palm as he exhaled. For a brief and calm moment, he could see him. He could see that he was standing side by side with Achaka. A sliver of a smile graced the old man’s face as he swore that he saw the purple knight give him that familiar salute before vanishing without a trace.

He looked over once more and adjusted his worn feather cap firmly with a new sensation of courage. It was time.

It was time to face Manannan once and for all.


End file.
